The drive back to New York City was over two days. We drove four hours to a hotel south of Harrisburg, then on Sunday, we’d drive four more hours and be back home. I had planned for enough time, so if we saw something that we wanted to look at, we stop and it wouldn’t throw off any schedules.
Growing up, on family car trips, we had a running joke, which was “we’ll hit it on the way back.” See, mainly the only time we took a road trip was to go up to Illinois to visit family, which we did just about every Summer. My father is an easy-going man, but when it came to driving, we had a schedule to stick to. And though we made this trip every year, there were attractions along the way, and when me and my brothers would squawk to him about stopping to see the world’s largest ball of twine, he’d tell us that we’d hit it on the way back. Then two weeks later, as we were passing the exit for the twine, and the old man would ask us if we wanted to stop, all of us wanted to be home badly, so we’d him that we’ll do it next year. You now see how this cycle repeats itself. At some point, we all came to understand that “hitting it on the way back” was as good as a no.
With the kid in the car, and on a father daughter adventure, I was determined to not say no to stuff the kid wanted to see. Now, deep in my core, I wanted to be home as soon as possible. I still had a sick wife at home that might need some nursing, and I didn’t want to delay her chance to see her daughter as soon as possible. Yet, when we’d see a sign for something, and I offered to stop, the kid kept telling me; she wanted to get home. She wanted to see mom, and be in her bed. I know I could have stopped – forced her to experience a natural cavern with her dad – but forcing her to do something wasn’t the point of the exercise.
When we checked into our hotel south of Harrisburg, I knew I had to feed the kid. Luckily, there were plenty of chain restaurants all around us – with unlimited salads and breadsticks, chips and hot sauce, or whatever it is they give you at a road house from Texas. None of it sounded appealing to either one of us.
“What was the one food you were missing at camp?”
“Sushi.”
“I can work with that.” One quick search and I found a sushi place two minutes from our hotel in a very gray cement strip mall – and it wasn’t a chain.
This is where I got my wish, “Order whatever you want.” And she wanted miso soup, and something called Rock Shrimp for an appetizer. I let her pick out the rolls as well, and she selected an eclectic group. Salmon, and tuna, and something with cream cheese in it, which she had never had before and wanted to know what it was like. “Let’s find out.”
I don’t know if I’m doing a good job as a father, and I bet I will never know. By not trying to screw her up, I know that I am screwing her up. I don’t want her to be afraid to try things in this world, to go out and do something. That was a huge hurdle for me to overcome. So much of my youth was always staying in the orbit of my parents. Never straying too far. They always encouraged me to go forth, leave the nest and explore, so I honestly feel that whatever was holding me back was me. When I broke free and move away from everything that I had known, it was difficult, and I felt like I was abandoning them – I felt guilty. I still feel guilty from time to time.
I don’t want her to feel like that. Maybe I do force this on her – pushing her out into the world, telling her that she will leave, and that’s okay, and that’s what you should do. Don’t be afraid to leave what you know. I hope it lands; I hope that she learns this lesson sooner than I did.
